Childhood Past
by LeahAnders
Summary: This is my personal back story on how Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry got their start in life.
1. The Discovery

_This is my own personal back story for how life began for Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. _

CHAPTER ONE

THE DISCOVERY

"Han! Hey Hannibal! I got another one!"

Hannibal looked up from the book he was hunched over. He looked at the smaller, curly-headed boy a few yards downstream from where he was sitting. As he watched, smiling, Jedediah struggled with his too-large pole, trying to land the fish dancing on the other end. Finally, Hannibal laid his book down and went over to help. The two of them working together brought the silvery glistening trout out of the water. It landed with a wet plop on the spongy ground next to their feet.

"How many does that make, Han?" Jed asked as he watched his friend add the wriggling fish to the ones already on the stringer.

"That's four for me and eight for you, Jed." Hannibal knew he had caught more than four fish but that was enough for him to take home for a meal. After all, it was just his ma and pa and him.

Jed was the youngest of five brothers. Eight fish probably wouldn't even come close to feeding that bunch but it was getting late. They'd been here at the creek since early morning. His mom would be expecting him home soon, so he encouraged Jed to pack up and start back.

"Aw, Han. Let's stay just a little longer. I wanna catch one more. You got any more of them sanwiches?"

Hannibal looked at Jed, amused and amazed once again at how much food such a little kid could eat. "You already had two earlier. Doesn't your ma ever feed you at home?" he asked, already rummaging through his knapsack for the last sandwich. "Here, this is the last one. We'll stay long enough for you to eat it and then we better get back. Our folks will be worried."

"Naw, my ma won't be worried. She knows I'm with you." Jed dropped his line back into the water and sat down with his sandwich. "Your ma is a great cook, you know that, Han?"

"Ummm…I guess so."

"Han, can I tell you somethin'?" Jed asked hesitantly.

"Sure. What is it?"

"There ain't nothin' I'd rather do than spend the day here by the creek, fishing with you. You're a lot more fun than my brothers…" Jed picked at the blades of grass on the soft ground beneath him. "I hate my brothers," he said, scowling fiercely.

Heyes grinned, "What did they do this time?' He knew that Jed often got the brunt of his older brothers' rowdy clowning and it made the boy madder than a wet hen for a while.

"Aw, nuthin'. They're just mean. Sometimes I wish you were my brother and I lived over at your place. How come your ma and pa never had anymore kids, anyways?"

Hannibal shrugged. "Don't know. I heard gramma and ma talking about it once though. I reckon they just couldn't after me. Gramma said I was a hard delivery."

"Don'cha ever wish you had some brothers?"

"Oh, I don't know. I might end up with some like yours," he grinned mischievously. "Hey, I got an idea. Maybe we should be blood brothers."

"Blood brothers? What's that?"

"Well, it's something I heard Jimmy Brown and Tom Jacobson talking about at school last week. They made themselves blood brothers by mixing their blood together. Forms a bond between two fellers that can never be broken they told me, stronger than actual brothers even."

"How do you go about doin' that, Han?"

"Well…we'd have to get some of our blood out. Do you think you wanna do that?" Han looked at Jed, dark eyes studying his face for signs of reluctance or fear. And Jed was scared, just a little, but not enough to admit that to Han.

"Sure, I do. I ain't scared of a little blood. How we gonna do it though?"

Hannibal dug into his knapsack once more, feeling around until his fingers found what they were seeking. He pulled out an old, rusty fishing knife. Walking to the creek, he bent down and rinsed the knife off. Jed watched his every move, never taking his eyes off the old knife. When Han turned around, he smiled at Jed. "Are you sure, Jed?"

Jed wasn't really sure about the knife, but he was sure he wanted to be Han's blood brother more than anything. Blue eyes wide and staring, he swallowed once before saying, "Let's do it."

Hannibal went back over and sat down in the grass next to Jed. He frowned and said uncertainly, "This won't hurt too much, I don't reckon. You want me to go first?"

"No, you better do me first. Otherwise, you might not be able to hold the knife good enough." Jed gamely thrust his hand out towards his friend, palm up. When Han reached out to take the hand, still chubby with baby fat, Jed did not flinch. After studying the younger boy's face a while longer, Heyes turned his attention to the small hand held within his own. Holding his breath, he set the tip of the blade against the soft skin of Jed's palm, pressing on it just enough to make an indentation at first and then pressing a little harder, until he drew blood.

Jed was holding his own breath, clenching his teeth together, his lips set in a grimace. Han worked quickly though and it was done before he could reconsider. A fine line of blood appeared in his palm.

"Squeeze some more out, Jed, while I get some of mine." Hannibal quickly opened the skin of his own palm with the knife until a matching line appeared in his palm. Setting the knife down, he worked the skin around the cut, forcing more blood to the surface. Jed did the same.

"Alright, that seems like enough. Now we just mix it together so you get some of my blood and I get some of yours. That makes us blood brothers, OK?"

"Sure Han."

Hannibal held his hand out in front of him, palm facing toward Jed. Jed mirrored his position so that the boys' hands were flat against each other. Instinctively, they intertwined their fingers. Unsure of what to do next, Han said, "Maybe we ought to say something."

"OK," Jed agreed, waiting expectantly for Hannibal to speak.

Han frowned slightly, thinking about it for a second before continuing, "This makes us blood brothers—a bond that can never be broken, no matter what. For the rest of our natural lives, we solemnly swear that we will look out for the other one—even more than we look out for ourselves. Say 'I swear', Jed."

"I swear."

"OK, it's done then. Now don't wash off that blood. Just let it wear off, even if your ma wants you to wash before supper, don't wash it off. That's important."

"OK, Han."

"Now you really gotta pack up. My ma is gonna kill me if I miss supper again."

He sat back down, leaning against a tree, and watched as his friend gathered up his things. Physically, they didn't have much in common. Hannibal was taller and leaner, with intense dark features; quick moving and quick thinking with a love for learning.

Jed, on the other hand, was rather small, even for the average nine year old, but solid as a tree trunk. His cornflower blue eyes, delicate features, and curly blond locks gave him an angelic look that already melted girl's hearts. He loved to talk and was smart as a whip but Hannibal couldn't ever remember seeing him pick up a book that hadn't been assigned by the teacher and even then he wasn't sure Jed actually read any of it.

But they had been together since they were little and Han knew that they had a special friendship. As an only child, Hannibal had been lonely on the farm. Jed had his brothers, but Han had heard his ma refer to Jed as an 'after-thought', as in "I never thought I'd have another after…" There were quite a few years between Jeremiah, his next older brother, and Jed.

So it had been natural for the two of them to gravitate towards each other. What was remarkable about it was how well they got along. Not that they didn't have their occasional arguments just like any other kids, but they just seemed to be in synch, almost like one could tell what the other was thinking without actually saying it…stuff like that.

Han was pulled out of his thoughts by Jed's voice. "OK. See you tomorrow, Han?"

"Yeah, sure. Come over after your chores are done. You can help me muck out the barn," Hannibal grinned. Jed pinched the end of his nose together and grimaced, making Han laugh outright.

The boys went their separate ways, each trailing a stringer of shiny, scaly fish over their shoulder. They didn't live far from each other; just a mile or so plus a copse of trees lay between their farmhouses.

Walking the wooded path towards home, Hannibal was seized by an unsettled feeling. There wasn't anything he could put his finger on immediately; there was just a wrongness in the air surrounding him. Slowly, he realized that the woods were unnaturally silent. The sounds that normally filled the forest with life—birds singing, squirrels chattering and running from tree to tree—were missing. Even the cicadas were silent. Han wondered if there might be a storm in the making.

He stopped to listen and have a look around. When he looked up, his view of the sky was blocked by massive branches overhead so he could get no clue as to what weather might be coming.

He stood there a moment longer, in the shadowy sunlight, holding his breath so as not to disturb the quiet. The only sound he could hear was the gentle rustle of the leaves in the afternoon breeze.

The beauty of the silence was not lost on the boy, who held within his young body a deeply sensitive soul. But the beauty was overlaid with another, more disturbing, aura. Han suddenly knew he had dawdled in the woods for too long today. Fear, like hundreds of tiny spiders, sent a prickly chill down his neck; but fear of what, he wasn't sure.

Han's pace quickened as he reached the edge of the forest. He could just make out his home on the far horizon. On first glance, nothing seemed amiss and his breathing, which had become somewhat labored in his anxiety, started to settle down.

He walked a little slower, his eyes fixed on his final destination. The smoke from the chimney told Han that his mother was busy fixing dinner over the fire. But there was something that didn't seem quite right—the smoke was too heavy and too widely disbursed.

Han stopped in his tracks, squinting into the distance. Suddenly his pulse quickened again and he started to run—faster than he could ever remember running. The sound of his own heart pulsed in his ears. The stringer of fish he had been carrying slipped out of his hand to the ground, forgotten in his fear and anxiety.

Time seemed to slow down as he ran towards his home. An eternity passed before he reached the narrow wagon path that led to his house. Han's mind refused to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. He didn't feel the tears that tracked their way down his cheeks or smell the acrid foulness of the smoke-filled air around him.

He could hear an unfamiliar voice yelling, almost screaming, "Ma! Pa!" Han thought the voice sounded strangely feral and was shocked to suddenly realize that the sound was coming from his own throat. He choked back a sob that threatened to break forth. If he started to cry, he feared he would never be able to stop.

Staring at his home now half-burned and smoking, Han slowly turned to survey the wreckage of what had been the Heyes' farm. The barn and stable had also been set afire. Han noted that the door of the stable was ajar and silently prayed that the horses that lived there had been set free before fire consumed their stalls. Their wagon was a few dozen yards from the house lying on its side, one wheel spinning lazily in the breeze.

Other than the pop and snap of still burning wood, and a soft squeak that the wheel made as it turned, all was silent. Han could see no sign of his ma or his pa. He felt rise within him the hope that they had escaped unharmed from the devastation that surrounded him and that they would be looking for him soon; all he needed to do was wait for them.

Hannibal walked closer to his house, looking for clues to help him understand what had happened. Had Indians attacked his family? There had been some trouble in the area from the natives in the past but things had settled down in recent months. Han remembered hearing his pa telling his ma about the raids being made in this part of Kansas by a group of guerilla fighters out of Missouri called the Bushwhackers. He wondered bitterly if they were responsible for destroying his home.

Han was wandering, lost in his thoughts, looking for some sign of where his folks were. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something familiar just beyond the edge of the overturned wagon. With dread, he walked closer. Now the tears ran unchecked down his dirt-stained face. His worst fears were coming true, pushing all hope for a happy reunion with his parents away forever.

Lying behind the wagon, staring unblinkingly at the late afternoon sky, was his mother. Han rushed to her side and dropped to his knees next to her lifeless body. The only evidence of the violence she must have suffered was a bloody stain on the bodice of her dress, spreading out from a ragged hole torn through the fabric. Han put his head to her chest, listening for any sign of life, but there was none. Through his tears, he studied her face for a moment before reaching out to close the lids of her eyes. Then he took one of her hands in his and held it.

It was only then that he saw his father, lying just a few feet away on Han's other side. Han had been so transfixed on his mother, he hadn't noticed the second body right away, even though it was very close to him. His pa was lying facedown, sprawled in the dirt. Han knew without a doubt that he was dead too. He reached out to touch his father's shoulder, still holding his mother's hand in his other hand. Then he just sat there for a long time.

The afternoon shadows lengthened and deepened. Han sat silently between his parents, reluctant to move as if by his staying there, maybe he could make things right. But he knew things were never going to be right ever again. He had lost the two people in the world who were important to him. What was he to do now? There was nothing left for him except to just sit there forever.

Then, from behind him, Hannibal heard a stealthy sound. Suddenly convinced that his parents' murderers had returned, he spun around on his hands and knees to face the intruder, tensed to attack and gain revenge against the bastards who had killed his ma and pa. His eyes glinted with malice and rage as he turned but he was unprepared for what he saw.

Jed was moving towards him, walking slowly as if under water, still dragging the stringer of now filthy and inedible fish behind him in the dirt. His blue eyes, usually so full of life and mischief, seemed washed of color as he stared at Han, slack jawed. Han wasn't sure that the boy even recognized him, but he knew by Jed's appearance that his home wasn't the only one attacked today.

The tension drained from Han's body, leaving him feeling weak and dizzy. He got to his feet unsteadily and walked over to Jed, putting his arm around the younger boy. Jed stood stiff as a board, not responding to his friend's touch. Han spoke to him gently, "C'mon Jed. It's gonna be all right. I'll take care of you."

Jed didn't speak. With apparent difficulty, he looked up at Han and stared deep into his brown eyes without blinking, wanting to believe the assurances his friend was offering. Han gave him a small, sorrow-filled smile and said, "You don't worry none, you hear? Remember we swore to watch out for each other, didn't we?"

Jed nodded once, barely enough to be seen. "Well, that's what we're gonna do. We're brothers now." Taking the younger boy's hand in his, he lead him away, not knowing where they were going or what they would do once they got there; just knowing that whatever it was, they would do it together.


	2. Lost

CHAPTER TWO

LOST

At first, no one seemed to notice the two small boys covered in dirt and soot wandering aimlessly down the center of the street. Townsfolk were milling around on the boardwalks and in front of buildings. Normal activities had been suspended; the people huddled in small groups with somber faces, talking in low voices. Word had already reached the town that several small farms in the outlying areas had been attacked by Bushwhackers out of Missouri. Men had been sent out to access the damages and bring the dead in for proper burials. By all accounts, a total of four farms had been destroyed, their inhabitants slaughtered. No survivors had been reported.

A woman standing at the edge of a group situated near the street was the first to see them. At first she didn't recognize either boy but then her eyes widened in shocked realization. She gasped out loud and gripped the arm of the man standing next to her. One by one, the other people gathered in the street turned to look. Silence fell over the men and women assembled there. No one moved except for the boys, still walking slowly down the center of the street, seemingly unaware of the crowd of people who now watched their progress with unwavering eyes.

Finally, one woman broke free from her trance and slowly approached Hannibal and Jed. As they got closer, she knelt down in front of the boys. Hannibal met her eyes and they locked glances for several seconds, neither one speaking. Jed stared quietly over her left shoulder, face impassive, lips moving silently in what might have been a childish prayer.

The two boys had walked all night. Hannibal had tried to get Jed to lie down and rest a couple of times but the boy wouldn't co-operate. Even when he lay down, Jed's eyes were fixed open and unblinking. Hannibal was worried, not understanding what was wrong with the boy and not knowing how to help, so he had decided the best thing to do was to get to town as quickly as possible and find help. They had walked together, Hannibal's arm draped protectively over the younger boy's shoulder, guiding and encouraging him all night.

"Can you help us? I think there's something wrong with Jed." Hannibal's voice came out small and weak, his eyes were red and swollen from lack of sleep. But there was still a strength in those eyes that amazed the woman who knelt before him staring back at him.

"Yes, Hannibal. I'm going to help you." Miss Fletcher called for one of the other women to help her get the boys to Doc Bennett's office. Gently, she took Hannibal's free hand in one of her own and placed her other hand on his slim shoulder to guide him. He slumped against her side, grateful for her help and exhausted from the events of the last day and night.

Mrs. Connor went to Jed's side and did the same. His body did not respond to her touch. He allowed her to take the hand that had been hanging limply at his side, but he did not show any other sign that he knew she was even there.

Moving slowly, they led the boys down the street towards the doctor's office. Townspeople on every side moved out of their way as they passed, still struck dumb by the sight of the boys who had already been counted as dead at the hands of the guerilla fighters.

The doctor looked up from his desk, responding first to the tinkling of the bell attached to the top of his door. Then his eyes turned to take in the sight of the two boys standing before him. His eyes widened in surprise and concern as he rose from his chair. "Hannibal? Jedediah? My God—we all thought…" His words trailed off as Hannibal's eyes sharply focused on his own. Looking at Miss Fletcher, he asked, "What happened? Did they tell you anything yet?"

She shook her head sadly, tears glistening unshed in her eyes. "No. They just wandered into town a few minutes ago. They must have walked all night."

Doc Bennett rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and cleared his throat noisily before approaching the boys. He got down on one knee and studied Hannibal and Jedediah in turn. "There doesn't appear to be anything physically wrong with them." He stared at Jed a moment longer. The little boy's eyes had not met his own even once, preferring a focal point somewhere over his left shoulder. Doc Bennett raised to his feet and gently lifted Jed in his arms.

Hannibal spoke. "My ma and pa are both dead. Jed's too, I think. He ain't said much about it." The tremor in his voice and the troubled look on his young face betrayed the fear and sadness Hannibal was trying to conceal from the adults in the room. Miss Fletcher laid her hand on his shoulder protectively. She had been his teacher at the school since the first day he attended. From the very beginning, he had impressed her with his intelligence and quick wit in the classroom. Unlike some of her other students, he was always eager to learn. She had lent him many books to read over these past few years and he surprised her over and over again with what he got out of them.

And outside the classroom, she had watched him as he played and talked with the other children. He was a natural leader. The other children looked up to him, even the older ones most of the time. There was something about Hannibal Heyes that made people like him and respect him. Some indefinable quality that she hadn't quite been able to lay her finger on. Of course, it might have just been that he was an uncommonly kind child, but she always thought there must be more to it than that.

Doc Bennett carried Jed to the long narrow examining table in the corner of the room and carefully laid the boy down on it. Jed didn't resist the doctor's touch, but lay limply on his back, hands relaxed at his sides. When Bennett tried to look into Jed's eyes, the boy averted his gaze towards the wall behind him.

Miss Fletcher asked, "What's wrong with him, Doctor?"

"Nothing physically."

"Well, something must be wrong. This is not the boy I see everyday at school."

"I didn't say nothing was wrong, Miss Fletcher, I said nothing physical is wrong. I believe what we are seeing here is an extreme case of emotional shock. Whatever this boy saw has caused a trauma to his mind." He gestured for her to come closer. His voice took on a practiced clinical edge but his eyes revealed the compassion he felt towards his young patient. "Look at his eyes. They haven't focused on any of us since you brought him in here. He's not able to deal with whatever happened to his family so he's dissociated himself from reality." He took one of Jed's hands in his own. "Feel how cold and clammy his skin is. Watch his respiration. See how shallow it is. All symptoms of shock."

Miss Fletcher studied Jed for a moment, then turned to look at Hannibal. He was standing a few feet away, rooted to the spot he had been when the doctor first picked Jed up. His eyes were clouded with worry and he was absorbing all the doctor was saying without saying a word.

"Well, can you do anything for him?" Miss Fletcher asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

Doc Bennett frowned and rubbed his stubbly jaw again. He wanted to assure Miss Fletcher and young Hannibal that Jedediah was going to be just fine, but if he was honest with them and with himself, he would have to admit that he just didn't know. "Abigail," he began, calling the teacher by her first name, "These types of things are hard to treat. Some folks, a lot of them, come out of this sort of trauma just fine…some others—well, some just never get over it."

Abigail Fletcher's hand rose to her chest as if to still her too-quickly beating heart. The doctor saw the alarm in her eyes and spoke again, "But Jed is young and he's strong. Children have an advantage in these types of situations over adults. They tend to recover a lot quicker. All we can do now is let him know we are here for him and wait and see."

"Doc?" Neither Miss Fletcher nor Doc Bennett had seen Hannibal approach but he spoke now from just inches away the doctor's elbow. "Can't you give him a powder or a pill or something? If you do that, I'm sure he'll be fine. We got things to do. We gotta get back out to our farms and take care of things. We have to take care of our families. My ma and pa…"

Now it was Doc Bennett's eyes that glistened with tears as he knelt down to address Hannibal Heyes. "I'm sorry Hannibal. A pill or a powder isn't going to help Jedediah right now. The only thing that will fix him now is time. Time and the love of the people closest to him."

"But our folks—there ain't nobody left but us. Who's gonna love him now?"

Doc Bennett was at a loss for words. Hannibal wanted reassurance that things were going to be all right but he couldn't bring himself to form the sentence. The innocent boy standing in front of him looked so beseechingly, so trustingly, to him, and there was nothing he could say to make reality any less harsh. He turned his head so he wouldn't have to gaze into those darkly intense eyes any longer, ashamed that he wasn't able to say something, anything to make this ordeal easier on the youth.

Once again, Miss Fletcher placed her hand on Hannibal's shoulder. After a moment's hesitation, he turned away from the doctor and looked up at the woman standing there. In his eyes, she saw the same trusting, pleading look that had caused so much discomfort in the doctor. "Don't worry, Hannibal. You and Jedediah are going to come home with me. We'll watch over him together, you and I. We'll see that he gets all the love and care that he needs, won't we? And you can stay as long as you like."

A small, sad smile touched the corners of Hannibal's mouth. How she wished she had the power to bring that smile to fruition. She had seen the power of his smile on the playground at school and silently prayed that someday, when this was far in the past and Jed was fully recovered, that smile would return.

"Doctor, my buggy is parked out on the street. Would you mind carrying Jed outside for me?"

Hannibal said, "No, Miss Fletcher. I can do it. I'll carry him."

"Oh Hannibal. I'm not sure you're strong enough—"

"I said I'll carry him."

While the adults watched, Hannibal moved to his friend's side. He stared into Jed's face as if trying to tell the younger boy something in a sort of wordless language. For a second, it seemed as though Jed's blue eyes fastened on his, but almost instantly they slid away to stare at the wall behind him.

Telling himself not to cry, Hannibal slid one arm behind Jed's head, the other behind his knees. Straining with the effort, he carefully lifted the younger, but heavier, boy from the hard table and carried him towards the door. Turning sideways to avoid bumping Jed on the doorframe, Hannibal stepped through the door and out into the sunlight, under the watchful eyes of the townsfolk who lingered still on the street. Doc Bennett and Miss Fletcher followed them out. The buggy was just a two-seater, so Hannibal handed his friend to the doctor and then climbed up. Miss Fletcher took the other seat and the reins. Then Doc Bennett returned Jed to Han, who held him in his lap for the trip to Miss Fletcher's home.

The doctor looked around the boys to speak to Miss Fletcher, "I'll be by later tonight to check on him, Abigail. Until then, take him home and put him to bed. See that he gets plenty of rest and try to get him to drink as much as possible. He might be able to take a little soft food later. Both these boys should try to sleep for most of the day." He reached into his pocket and drew out a paper packet. "If Hannibal can't fall asleep, mix a spoonful of this in some water and make him drink it."

"I can't sleep, Doc Bennett. I have to go take care of our folks. I can't just leave them out there any longer."

"That's not for you to worry about, Hannibal. Someone else will see to your folks. You just go with Miss Fletcher and get some rest now, you hear? Doctor's orders."

"Yes sir," Hannibal mumbled.

Miss Fletcher's home was near the edge of town, just across from the schoolhouse where she spent her days teaching. It was a cozy little house with one bedroom and a small sitting room. She had Hannibal bring Jed into her room and lay him down on the soft feather bed. "You two will sleep in here. I'll make a bed up on the divan in the sitting room for myself tonight."

Han was too tired to argue with her. The short trip from the doctor's office to her house had been long enough for the fatigue and exhaustion he had been fighting to take hold. Miss Fletcher started to undress Jed and put him to bed wearing only his underwear. Han was too tired to even undress himself by this point and he collapsed onto the other half of the bed, pulling his legs up in a semi-fetal position. After Miss Fletcher had Jed settled comfortably she walked around the bed and helped Han undress. Then she tucked him into bed too. She was about to pull the door closed behind her on her way out when Han muttered sleepily, "No…leave it open. I want to be able to hear you."

The two boys slept the rest of that day and through the night. Miss Fletcher sat with them much of the time to make sure neither one needed anything. Hannibal slept fitfully, tossing and turning in his dreams until his bed sheets were knotted around him. Miss Fletcher knew his dreams must be tormenting him. Several times, she noticed his face contorted in a look of pain, during these moments he would often cry out softly in his sleep. Her heart broke for both of them as she sat quietly keeping watch.

Jedediah appeared to be sleeping more peacefully, face slack against the pillow, his hair, dampened with sweat, clung to his head in tiny ringlets. But she feared his angelic appearance was masking something far worse going on in his mind. She wondered what sort of boy would awaken from this trauma-induced slumber. Silently, she prayed that not too much permanent damage had been done to his psyche.

She was dozing in her chair early the next morning when she heard stirring coming from the bed. When she opened her eyes, she saw Jed sitting up in bed. He was looking at her with an expression that she couldn't recognize. It was his eyes that drew her attention. Gone was the blank, vacant stare of yesterday but still there was something unfamiliar and unsettling in those eyes that hadn't been there just a couple of days ago. Something born of pain and loss. An icy distance had taken the place of the friendly openness she remembered so fondly.

"Jed?" she said, tentatively. "How are you feeling?"

Jed looked at her harder, then turned his eyes to study his open palms and shrugged his shoulders.

"Would you like something to eat?"

This question drew even less response than the previous one. "Well, I'll go get you something. Will you be all right?" Getting no response, she frowned sadly and left the room.

Jed sat silently for a minute more. His eyes wandered over the unfamiliar surroundings before coming to rest on Hannibal, still asleep on the bed next to him. "Han?" Jed reached out and prodded Hannibal's shoulder with one pudgy finger. "Han—wake up."

Hannibal's eyes flew open, startled, and he jolted upright. His body visibly relaxed when he saw Jed. Then he remembered how they ended up here. He wanted to ask his friend if he was all right but before he could find the words, Jed spoke, "Han, the blood is gone."

Hannibal stared at Jed, not comprehending. "What? What do you mean, Jed?"

Jed held his palm up where Hannibal could see. Beneath the dirt encrusted in his skin, he saw a thin scab starting to form where he had used the fishing knife to make them blood brothers. Hannibal's mind was jerked back to that afternoon two days ago and the awful scene he found when he got home from fishing with Jed.

"The blood is gone. You told me not to wash it off and I didn't." Jed's voice pulled him back to the present and he smiled sadly at the younger boy.

"Good…that's real good. It's official now. We're blood brothers to the end."

"Uh, huh." Jed rubbed his palm absently. Hannibal took the opportunity to study the boy. He was relieved to see that Jed seemed to be coming back to normal but he was afraid that he would never really be the same happy, carefree person that Hannibal knew. There was something in his eyes that Han had never seen before.

Miss Fletcher came back into the room carrying a tray. The tray held a teapot and cups and some buttered toast. "Oh, Hannibal, you're awake too. Good." She set the tray on the bed between the two boys and poured the tea. She added a couple spoonfuls of sugar to each cup and handed them to the two boys. "Try to drink some of this."

Hannibal took a sip of the hot tea. When he trusted his voice to speak without cracking, he asked, "Our folks?"

Miss Fletcher shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, boys."

Hannibal swallowed hard and nodded. "What about our farms?" Jed was crying softly beside him.

"Destroyed, I'm afraid. Nothing much was left after the fires did their damage." She gestured to two wooden crates in the corner of the room. "The men who went out there salvaged what they could for you. I'm sorry but there isn't much."

"Uh, huh."

"I suppose I should tell you that the burial is set for tomorrow morning…but Doc Bennett thinks it might be best if you don't attend."

Hannibal thought about this for a second, then he picked up a piece of toast and encouraged Jedediah to take it. "Here, Jed. Eat this," he said softly.

"Not hungry."

"Sure ya are. You're always hungry, remember?"

Jed sniffled and shrugged his shoulders miserably, "Not hungry."

"OK. That's all right. Later then." Hannibal sighed, his misery matching Jed's.

Miss Fletcher watched as Hannibal sipped his tea. In turn, he watched Jed. Finally, she said, "I have some water heating in the kitchen. When you're done here, I think you should get cleaned up. Mrs. Connor brought over some clothes for you. Her boy, Emmett, is just about your size Hannibal."

"Thank you, Miss Fletcher."

She rose from her chair and went to leave. Hannibal's voice stopped her. "Miss Fletcher?"

"Yes?"

"What's going to happen to us?" His dark brown eyes looked deep into her own, looking to her for an answer that would save them.

She met his gaze without blinking and replied, "I've been giving that some thought…and I was hoping you and Jed would consider staying here with me for a while."

Hannibal and Jedediah did not attend the funeral services for their families and the other families who had been killed by the Bushwhackers. Instead they remained in Miss Fletcher's home with her and read passages from the Bible and prayed. Then together, they sat on the floor and went through the contents of the wooden crates, the only reminders they had left of their families.

The boys spent a lot of time looking at each item in the boxes. Most of it wasn't worth much and some things had been partially damaged by the fire and smoke but each piece was precious to the two young boys who had lost everything else so suddenly.

Near the bottom of his crate, Jed found his mother's silver handled hairbrush. Jedediah sat a long time, holding the brush; running his fingers over the ornate handle; remembering how his mother sat each night, stroking her hair until it shined in the candlelight. Sometimes, she would brush his hair after she was done with her own.

Hannibal had gone through everything in the crate of things from his farm. He had retreated into his own thoughts when Miss Fletcher, reaching into the crate, said, "You missed something, Hannibal." When she brought her hand back out where Hannibal could see it, there was a silver ring laying in her palm. Hannibal's heart skipped a beat and then thumped wildly for a second. His eyes widened in amazement as he reached out and took the ring from her hand. "This was my father's wedding ring," he said softly. "He didn't wear it around the farm much. He kept it wrapped in a handkerchief in his dresser." He slipped the ring on his finger but it was several sizes too large.

"Hold on a second, Hannibal." Miss Fletcher went to her own dresser. On the top of the dresser, she had a small jewelry box. In the jewelry box, she found a thin silver chain. She brought the chain back to where Hannibal and Jedediah sat and reached out her hand to Hannibal. "May I?" she asked, indicating the ring.

Hannibal handed her his father's wedding ring. She ran the chain through the circle of silver and then leaned forward to fasten it around Hannibal's neck. "There. Now you can keep it with you until you've grown enough to wear it on your own finger."

Hannibal's hand went up to grasp the ring. He held it there for a moment, eyes shining with tears, before dropping the ring down inside his shirt collar. "Thank you, Miss Fletcher."

The next several days passed slowly. Jedediah seemed to be recovering, albeit slowly, from the trauma he had suffered. At first, he spent much of his time sleeping. When he was awake, he was a more-subdued shadow of his former self. Gone was the little boy who chattered non-stop in Hannibal's ear. He had been replaced by another boy--one more quiet and introspective, given to long periods of not speaking at all.

Miss Fletcher kept a close watch over both boys. She knew that Jedediah was suffering but she was hopeful for a more or less full recovery. Each day he seemed to be getting a little better, more like his old self. She was more worried about Hannibal. Outwardly, he seemed to be fine, although somewhat sadder than he had been before; intent on being strong and helping Jed through his pain. She worried that he was carrying too much of his grief inside, hiding it away from himself.

As the days turned into weeks, the three became more comfortable, more familiar with each other. Hannibal's easy smile returned. Miss Fletcher was still concerned that it masked his true feelings but she was glad to see some of his sparkle return. In quieter moments, when he thought no one was watching him, she would see him take the chain holding his father's ring out from inside his shirt and hold it—just sit quietly staring into someplace where only he could see and hold the ring between his fingers. But these episodes were becoming more infrequent the farther he got from the past.

Jedediah was recovering too it seemed, even though he remained quieter than he had been previously and he preferred not to have Hannibal out of sight for too long. Fortunately, the older boy preferred to keep Jed close too. The two had been inseparable before the loss of their families and homes. Now they were even closer, if that was possible.

Soon summer was over and it was time for the three of them to begin thinking about the new school year. Miss Fletcher drew them out of themselves with funny stories about the kids at school and told them about the exciting things she had planned for them and the rest of the students.

One afternoon, Mr. Jackson of the town council stopped by her house. "Miss Fletcher, I wonder if I might have a word with you?"

"Of course. Please come in," she said pleasantly, opening the door for him. "What can I do for you?"

He stepped over the threshold, hat in hand. He looked uncomfortably from her to the two boys sitting in chairs watching him. "I wonder if it might be possible to speak—privately?" he asked, whispering the last word.

Miss Fletcher frowned. She turned to Hannibal and Jed and said, "Would you boys mind going outside to play for a bit?" Hannibal looked uncertainly at her. "It's all right. Go on now."

"Yes, ma'am." The boys looked suspiciously at Mr. Jackson as they went past him on their way outside. Hannibal led Jed around the side of the house where a window stood open to catch the afternoon breeze. From there, they could hear everything said in the front room. Hannibal didn't like eavesdropping on Miss Fletcher, but somehow he knew that whatever Mr. Jackson had to say, it was about him and Jed and he intended to hear what it was.

"All right, Mr. Jackson, what have you come to see me about?"

Mr. Jackson cleared his throat loudly, clearly uncomfortable with the message he had been designated to deliver. "As you know, Miss Fletcher, I am chairman of the town council…"

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Go on."

"Well….harrumph…please don't misunderstand what I am about to say to you. We men on the council think you've done a marvelous thing—taking in those two poor unfortunate orphans after…well, you know."

"Hannibal and Jedediah have been a blessing to me, Mr. Jackson."

"Yes, I'm sure, but you see…harrumph…we on the council think that, well we think that it might be better—for everyone—if the two of them went to live at Valparaiso where they would be around other children like themselves. As you know, Valparaiso has a marvelous reputation and--"

"Children like themselves?"

"Yes, you know, other orphans."

"Mr. Jackson, we've known these boys since they were small. There is no reason—"

"There's something else."

Miss Fletcher's eyes flashed with barely contained anger. "Yes, go on."

"Uh…we—the council—feel that you might not be able to carry out your duties as teacher as well if you have the added responsibility of raising these two boys."

"But—"

Mr. Jackson held up his hand to silence her. "Please, Miss Fletcher. Let me finish." Taking a deep breath, he continued, unable to meet her eyes as he spoke, "And we also believe that it might be seen as…improper…for a young single woman like yourself to be taking care of boys, one of whom is verging on young manhood."

Miss Fletcher's eyes widened in shock, embarrassed by the implications of what Mr. Jackson was telling her. "I assure you, Sir, that—"

"I'm sorry, Miss Fletcher, but our minds are made up. We took a vote. If you want to continue on here as teacher, you'll have to let these boys go."

She stared him down, eyes sparking with rage and frustration. He was the first to break eye contact. When he spoke again it was with even less confidence than before, "Well, you can have a few days to consider what I've told you but be aware that the council has no intentions of changing its mind."

Edging past her to the door, he walked hastily down the sidewalk, anxious to get away. Hannibal and Jedediah were standing at the side of the house as he passed by, accusing him with their eyes. He met their stares for only a second before his conscience forced him to look away. Next year, someone else can be chairman of the council, he thought as he rushed away, back to the safety of his home and family.

Miss Fletcher pushed open the screen door and quietly came outside. She saw the boys standing frozen at the side of the house. She looked as though she might cry when she realized that they had heard the whole thing. Sitting down on the porch steps, she motioned with her arms for the boys to join her. Jedediah was the first to respond. He went to her and gratefully leaned into her arms for a hug. Hannibal held back for just a second or two longer before he approached. He did not accept her offer for a hug but instead stood there, his large dark eyes studying her until she started to feel mildly uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

Miss Fletcher held tight to Jedediah. She said, with false brightness, "So you heard all that, right? Do you know what I say to Mr. Jackson? I say I don't need his old job anyway. We'll do something else. We can move somewhere else if we have to, you know. There isn't anything holding us here."

Tears glistened in her eyes. She could tell by watching Hannibal's face that she wasn't fooling him. Teaching was all she knew and it was likely that any town would share the same opinion as this one. A single woman with two maturing young boys living with her would not be the proper role model for the rest of her students.

He smiled at her, sadness touching the corners of his lips. "Mr. Jackson is right. We would be better off at Valparaiso with other kids like us. You don't have to worry, Miss Fletcher, I'll take care of Jedediah. We're blood brothers after all."

Sitting down on the step next to her, Hannibal finally allowed himself to be pulled into her embrace. The three of them sat there for a long time holding onto each other.

A few days later, a carriage pulled up in front of Miss Fletcher's tidy home. A stern-faced man, dressed in black, stepped out. A few minutes later, Hannibal and Jedediah were standing next to him, each holding tightly to a small bag that held all that remained of their possessions. Miss Fletcher tried valiantly to hold back her tears but a few slipped soundlessly down her cheeks. She knelt down to their level and took both of them in her arms, kissing them fiercely on their foreheads, each one in turn. Then she pulled back and looked at them, trying to memorize their faces. She wanted to say something reassuring but the words wouldn't come.

Instead, it was Jedediah who spoke. "Don't worry, Miss Fletcher. I'm not scared. Hannibal and I will take care of each other, won't we Han?"

Hannibal nodded somberly. "That's right, Jed."

"And you can come visit us sometimes. And maybe someday, when you get married, we can come and live with you again."

Miss Fletcher choked back a sob, tears running unchecked down her face. "I will," was all she could manage to say before grabbing them again for one last hug. Then they disappeared into the carriage and were gone.


End file.
